The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1887-10-05
WE ALWAYS WAIT.

WE ALWAYS WAIT.
We always wait, the promise unfulflled;
The spring, the summer, the harvests we
But never nom ron the cradle to the grave,
To any thought, however strong and brave.
Shall full fruition be-
The child would snatch a bauble of the
The youth, the ecstasy of love that leagues
with fate;
Manhood, dominion that is lost so soon,
And age, the trembling shadows at the gate
For hope grows weary of the solemn noon,
Wherein we always wait.
Behold the sodden fields, now newly sown;
And there the husbandman with anxious
Watching the wind and rain, in hope and
fear,
TIL summer smiles, or blight and rust ap'
Where all the venture Of his harvest lies.
The clouds are auguries of dread to him,
The sun a laggard, or the rains are late; .,
The wind shall sometimes soothe him with
hymn;
The spectral fog shall be thing of fate;
For hope, the twilight Of the soul, grows
dim,
patient optimist-a smile or tear,
Are honest kin, they spring so near to-
gether.
No man hath ever lived all satisfied,
No human heart that is not sometimes tried
By leak, unfriendly weather.
There never was full measure Of content,
Even to him most blest and nursed of late;
The morrow brings its hazard for us all
Some one demands Oboli at the gate, =.
Whereat sit Hope and Fear, who sadly call
The souls that always wait.
Not one is found to thwart the dead Parce,
Nor stay the ravel Of the CHASTITY thread
Nor birth, nor pride, nor wealth, nor wit can
Escape or compromise with destiny;
The surge betwixt the living and the dead
o, sapient sage, o, orator sublime,
Poet and priest, it's idle here to prate,
Of latent will, of creeds that mock at
time
Within the Law there is no small or great;
Man is but man, whether he fall or CLINE
He waits; aye, he must always wait
Must wait for what the doubt, the great
"beyond!"
The new to-day, tomorrow will be old;
All human empire soon is desolate.
Decay and change, with sure unaagging gait,
Trample heroic dust and peasant mould.
The myth of Kings Republics what are
these
But vague Ambition plating Gods estate
No man hath warranty for aught-a breath
Will cancel legacies of love or hate,
VIII watt his latest title deeds to Death,
On whom we always wait.
IT'S much to flutter on the broad highways,
And boast our opulence in wit and art;
To clothe in golden grandeur that which
dies
Man only owns the moment he enjoys,
In all life's comedy, a single part
The gorgeous Cosmos girding him with state;
And all the costly trappings loaned OF time,
Leave him at last alone and deSolate,
Within the vestibule where all men 60,
Alas and always wait.
One fain must laugh-perhaps 'tw,re best to
weep
When some poor soul, leader in the van,
Aspires by ethics or some covert claim,
To win himself precedence in name,
And chant heroicS DER his brother man,
Be he high priest or Fortunes parasite.
Or plumed by circumstance (men call him
great
Or placid, smiling mediocrity,
Hare all must meet and jostle at the gate
Of that cold house where we In company
The playerS-always waitl
We always wait-our work is never done,
Our lives are full Of all things incomplete;
The sun, the rain alike for every one,
May yet find gardens in our hearts begun,
To bloom or wither in the summers heat.
Tho flowers Of Love and Hope may blossom
soon,
Or only ripen wearily and late;
The planet Peace must be our harvest
moon
Knowing these things, we find no fault with
We enter doors where love is still attune,
Wherein we always wait.
Alas! some summers have called my own,
Some scenes, some marvels Of great lakes
and woods;
The thrilling peans Of the ocean sent
By starry pathways through the armament,
These and the like were mine in the ancient
moods.
Here was no smell Of parchment, dog -eared
Nor wles of mortgage, lease. or pawned
estate;
But by the mighty legac;es Of God,
Each plant that bloomed, each flower that
blessed the sod,
Shared my inheritance with friendly nod,
Making sweet murmurs, saying nothing
loath,
"The earth is the Lords and the fullness
thereof"
Wherein we always wait
John Antrobus, in the Minneapolis Star.